


The Shorthand of Emotion

by Elri



Category: Wonder Woman (2017), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22054642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elri/pseuds/Elri
Summary: Charlie starts playing for an anonymous admirer
Relationships: Charlie/Sameer (Wonder Woman), Diana (Wonder Woman)/Steve Trevor (Background)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	The Shorthand of Emotion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [danielfaradays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/danielfaradays/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Kaye!
> 
> [Inspired by this post](https://oopsabird.tumblr.com/post/188127332945/beyoncescock-wholesome-interactions-between)  
> Title is from a quote by Tolstoy

Charlie trudged into his building, shaking out his borrowed umbrella and mentally thanking Diana for it. She'd been staying late to oversee the completion of a new exhibit looking at forgotten women of history and he’d waited until she was done before heading out for the night. When they’d gotten to the front and seen the rain pouring down, Diana had had the idea to check the lost and found for some of the umbrellas that had been left a while back (they were, of course, going to return them in the morning). 

As the lift doors were closing, he heard a voice call out “Hold the lift, s'il vous plaît!” And his hand shot out to stop it. “Merci,” said a very smartly dressed man as he stepped in, dripping wet, “I apologize for the mess I'm causing. Would you please hit the sixth floor button?”

“Aye.” Charlie tried not to blush as the man’s friendly smile and accent made his heart flutter. “Don’t worry about it. I forgot my umbrella too, borrowed this from lost and found.”

“A very clever idea,” the man said, “I shall have to remember that next time.” It looked like his hair had been combed and styled earlier but thanks to the rain he now had a few curls hanging down across his forehead. He pushed them back as the elevator stopped and smiled at Charlie, “My floor. Thank you again.”

“No problem. Have a good night,” Charlie managed to get out as the doors shut. He then realized he’d hit the wrong button for his own floor and allowed himself a facepalm in the privacy of the lift.

The building Charlie lived in had the nickname “The Bachelors’ Flats” because of how many single men lived in the small, one-bedroom apartments. It was affordable, but that sometimes meant that things like temperature regulation were a bit of a gamble. His apartment was stuffy that night but the rain had stopped and left a chill in the air, so Charlie opened a window and moved his piano over to play.

He'd gotten through "Loch Lomond” and “Let it Be” and was about to start a third song when he noticed the piece of paper hanging outside his window. It was attached to a string and had been folded to fit through the fire escape grating. Thinking it was a bizarre noise complaint, Charlie sighed and pulled it in to read it.

‘A humble request to the pianist:,’ read the cursive scrawl inside, ‘Liebesträume no. 3 in A flat.’

Charlie smiled down at the note, flipped through his sheet music to see if he had it, and started playing. When he’d finished, he heard faint applause coming from the upstairs window. He smiled through the rest of the night.

The next morning, Charlie relieved the night guard and prepared to open the museum for the day. Diana was the first to arrive, as usual, and greeted him, “Good morning, Charlie.”

“Morning lass.” Something in his tone must’ve caught her attention because she stopped and gave him a Look. “What?”

“What are you so cheerful about this morning?”

“Don’t know what you mean.”

“Charlie,” she tilted her head at him, smiling in her knowing way, “You’re very happy this morning. It's nice.”

He shrugged, “It’s nothing really. Someone heard me playing last night and apparently liked it. They made a request.”

“That’s wonderful Charlie! You should play at our next staff party, it’s been too long.”

“Ach” he waved his hand, “We’ll see.”

At that moment, they were interrupted by Steve coming in, “Hi Charlie, hi Diana, how’s that Historical Women exhibit coming along?”

Diana smiled at him, “We finished putting it together last night, it will be ready for public viewing after our private showing this weekend.”

“Awesome! I'll let the rest of the information desk know so we can spread the word. Hey by the way, some friends of mine down at the local theater were telling me about the show they’re putting together. It's an abridged version of  _ Pride and Prejudice  _ and they did totally gender-blind casting. My friend Sami is playing Lizzie –they're calling him Ezekiel for this-, Chief put together an amazing set, and Etta’s stage manager so she’s really running the whole thing. The show’s not out for another week but I was wondering if, when it did come out, you’d maybe want to go see it with me?”

“That sounds lovely, I look forward to it.”

“Cool, cool, I'll send you the details later. See ya, Diana. See ya, Charlie,” he added, remembering his friend was there as he headed off to his desk. 

Charlie and Diana watched him go and once he was out of earshot Charlie turned to Diana with a grin, “About damn time one of you asked the other out. I’m a wee bit surprised you weren’t the one to make the first move.”

Diana smiled, her eyes twinkling, “I was going to ask him to join me for the private showing, he didn’t give me the chance.”

The rest of the day passed without incident and Charlie handed over responsibilities to the night shift to head home. He glanced at the piano after dinner, thinking about moving it back to where it had been, but opened the window instead and sat down to play. Tonight his first selection was “Clair de Lune,” followed by “The Skye Boat Song.” It was during the second that he noticed the note waiting outside his window:

‘You play beautifully. Thank you for sharing your music. I hope you don’t mind, but may I hear Your Song by Elton John?’

Charlie had to chuckle a little at that one and tucked the note into the music rack as he started playing. Once again, soft applause followed his performance. He played a few more songs, not receiving anymore requests, and went to bed humming.

The next night was the night of the showing, and Charlie had been assigned as one of the guards for it. He took a nap during the day and didn’t get back in until late. Diana had been resplendent in her evening gown, catching and holding the attention of their esteemed guests as she guided them through her passion project of over a year. It was a lovely evening, and he’d been able to bring home leftovers from catering, but it was still quite late, and so he just managed to change before flopping onto his bed and falling asleep.

The night after that he went out with Diana, Steve, and a handful of others who’d been part of putting together the exhibit for a quieter celebration of their success. Once again, he got back too late to play, seeing as most of the other residents of the building were asleep and it was probably not worth risking the actual noise complaint. 

When he was finally able to play again, three nights after his last performance, he started with “I’ll Walk Beside You,” one of his old favorites, even singing along with it. This time, a note was waiting for him after the first song:

‘Glad to hear you back, I’d missed your music. And now I get to hear your voice too! I have something of a cliché request this time, if you would be kind enough to indulge me: The Piano Man by Billy Joel.’

Charlie indulged, smiling as he sang just loud enough that hopefully his kind listener could hear. He played “I Can’t Make You Love Me,” and a section from “Moonlight Sonata,”and was pleasantly surprised to see another note outside the window.

‘A most humble request: Danny Boy.’

“You bastard!” Charlie shouted, “You doaty bawbag!” He was trying to sound angry but he couldn’t help the laugh that was creeping into his yelling. He heard laughter coming from outside and managed to clamber out his window onto the fire escape, still muttering various curses and trying not to crack, “Come out and face me!”

“As you wish!” Came the cheerful reply, and a curly-haired head stuck itself out from the open window on the upper floor, “Ah, it’s you! Bonjour, Maître Pianiste, I gather you were not so taken with this last request?” It was the man from the elevator, and he was even more attractive when he was laughing.

But Charlie was determined not to give in just yet, “You have a lot of nerve sending me trash like that.”

“My sincerest apologies,” the man said, grinning in a very unapologetic way, “Please, allow me to make it up to you. Would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner, say Tuesday night around 7?”

“I might,” Charlie said, “If you told me your name.”

“Sameer Nejem, but please, call me Sami.”

“Charlie Baird. Pleasure to meet you.”

“And you as well. So, is that a yes?”

“I suppose I can give you a chance, even if you do have shit taste in music,” He added, shaking the note at Sami. This time, when Sami laughed, Charlie couldn’t help but join in.

**Author's Note:**

> Now featuring a [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/02jIssbRE7KmspCvve4VBR?si=MkVpfO9XR6qWdK5n8aIA9Q)  
> made by [oopsabird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oopsabird/pseuds/oopsabird)  
> 


End file.
